Laying Claim
by Soonerwxgirl
Summary: One-Shot. She married Francis, but who has true claim on her heart?


Author's Note: I don't own Reign, but the story is mine. I needed to make myself feel better after the last episode, so here you go. Enjoy!

* * *

The note Mary sent gave explicit instructions on finding her room through the maze of stone tunnels she had spent hours mapping on her own. Mary knew it should take him roughly 452 steps, three right turns and one left turn, to travel from his room to hers.

She knew this was risky at best, treasonous at worst, but she was anything but afraid. It had been a bumpy few months, but Mary knew she loved Sebastian in her heart, even though she married Francis. And tonight she would show him, for after the events of the last few weeks, she did not know if she might ever get the chance again.

Francis never entered her rooms unannounced, so Mary gave specific instructions to Kenna to tell Francis, should he suddenly decide to visit this evening, that she was unwell. Kenna never questioned, knowing Francis' recent dalliance had put a barrier between the two.

Mary stood before the fire, knowing full well the firelight would accentuate her figure under the nearly translucent slip of a gown she wore.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Pause. Knock.

He followed her instructions to the letter. The door to the secret entrance of her room slowly opened. His eyes found hers immediately, but he did not enter her room.

"Are you just going to stand there?" Mary asked, taking but a tiny step forward.

"By stepping into your chambers, I am _actually _committing treason against my country and my King." After Francis had chained him in the dungeon on suspicion of leading a traitorous revolt, Mary knew treason would be a touchy subject for him.

"I am a Queen in my own right. We cannot be held to the same standard as others. It is not treason to love someone."

"Maybe not for you, but I am expendable, your Grace." Mary knew what he hinted at, for Francis had tried to test that theory.

"No one will ever know, or suspect. I can protect you."

His continued unwavering gaze unnerved Mary.

"And you are by no means expendable." She whispered.

Sighing, he stepped into her room, nudging the secret passageway door closed. He had come barefoot, with his trousers hung low and his shirt loosely laced and untucked. Mary cringed as her eyes observed the redness around his neck, his skin reacting to the weight of the shackles. Purple bruises peaked out from hem of his sleeves, and blossomed across the portion of his chest exposed by the v of his shirt. He had been released from the dungeons only a week previously, but the wounds of torture and indecency were slow to fade.

"I heard you bargained for my life. How did you manage? Francis is hell bent on killing me." His words were harsher than he meant, for he was eternally grateful for her token of favor. But somewhere, deep down, he had made his peace, ready to accept death with open arms. It would have been an end to being pursued.

"It was quite easy, actually, more or than I expected." Mary hesitated, for she knew the next words would be hard for Sebastian to process. "You see, I gave him a bit of good news first, and then preyed on his moment of happiness." Her words were slow, deliberate, and twinged with pain.

"His moment of happiness?" Sebastian chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "Are you with child?" Mary watched his eyes fill with despair, for she knew he had once envisioned them together, as parents.

"I told Francis I was with child, yes."

"You are not answering my question. Are you with child?"

"No." The words barely made a sound as they moved across her tongue, ghosting around the room to his ears only. "He was so deliriously happy he would have granted any request I made."

"You lied to him." The strength left Sebastian's shoulders as they sagged. As much as he loved Mary, he never wanted to see her use Francis' own tactics of lying and deceit to get what she wanted.

"It was the only way. He has lied to me too many times to count." She sighed. "I know it was wrong, but I saved your life, did I not?" She tried smiling, hoping to lighten the dark mood which had settled on the room like a thunderstorm cloud. She expected tears to start raining from her eyes if Sebastian did not respond, even if it was simply a sarcastic retort.

"I told you once, a long time ago, that you were too good. And you are. But you are too good to ever lie to achieve your ends." He approached her slowly, placing his hands on her shoulders. "But I am not here to admonish you, because I am ever so grateful you did."

He bent on his knees before her, his hands wrapping around her thighs, allowing his head to rest gently on her stomach. She strummed her fingers through his hair.

"Who knows," he continued, pulling away enough to kiss her stomach through her shift, "maybe we can turn your lie into a truth." The mirth in his voice sparkled in his eyes, and she giggled in response, swatting at him playfully.

"Oh Bash, really?" She admonished jokingly. She pulled him up to wrap her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in his chest. She felt the tension in his muscles, praying he could find a way to live the rest of his existence without fearing for his life. Stepping away from their embrace, he walked closer to the fire, watching the flames dance amongst the logs. He was deep in thought, before he turned back towards her.

"Are you sure he will not try and visit you tonight?" He asked, taking slow, evens steps towards in her direction.

"No, he has not visited me regularly in several months. I told my ladies I was unwell this evening, just in case."

He nodded, looking around the room carefully. "The doors are all locked, I made sure. Nobody, except my ladies, enter my chambers unannounced, and they will not do so until mid-morning."

"You have thought of everything, Mary, and that is why I love you so much." He chuckled. For a moment, he stared back into the flames of the fireplace. Mary was mesmerized by the firelight dancing across his facial features.

Though she was trying to make it obvious there was no hesitation on her part, she wanted him to make the first move. As if reading her mind, he pulled his tunic over this head, tossing it back toward her bed. His trousers barely grabbed his hips, threatening to fall off as he approached. He stopped mere inches from her. Cupping her face in his hands, he closed the distance between them, placing his lips to hers.

Feeling empowered, Mary gripped his hips, pulling him completely against her and easily pushing the loose material off. Mary's eyes twinkled at the deep moan that escaped his lips.

Mary took a step back from him, gently tugging the laces on the front of her gown. She watched, with much satisfaction, as his face twitched and eyes darkened as she loosened the gown and edged it off her shoulders.

"I have a request for my loyal subject." Mary whispered, as the material wilted to the floor.

Stepping towards her, their bodies almost touching, he responded huskily, "Anything, your Grace."

"Have your way with me, Bash." Her voice commanded action, and he immediately started, grabbing her up roughly against him and forcing her legs around his waist.

"I was only interested in claiming you."

"Then claim me." Mary whispered.

"As you wish, my precious Mary." She laughed as he spun her around before climbing on the bed and pushing her in to mattress.

They tumbled carelessly around her bed, making a mess of her beautiful linens. Mary did not care. She wanted to forget the finery, the jewels, the precious materials, all the items befit a Queen. She wanted to imagine she was a milkmaid, and he was a stable boy. They were rolling happily in a haystack, not caring that hay was sticking out of their hair, or that the horses were getting an eyeful of human flesh. For imagining such a scenario, she could completely relax into his touch and be overwhelmed by the sensations his hands created on her heated skin. There would be no complications, or consequences for such a tryst. No one would care, for they were two people helplessly in love, destined to wed someday, have a basketful of children and grow old together. She could almost feel the scratchy straw beneath her back, or hear the horses neigh in contempt. She would hear his voice in her ear, whispering words that would not be repeated elsewhere. They would be daring, trying new things she only overheard maids speaking about in hushed tones.

And then, as her world shattered beneath her eyelids, the tension blessedly leaving their bodies, she came horridly back to reality. They were not in a stable, or on a haystack, but they were in her Queen's suite at the French court. Trysts of this nature had consequences in a royal arena, _severe_ consequences. Even deadly consequences. Anne Boleyn was proof. Katherine Howard was proof. Though Mary disagreed with wives being treated differently than husbands, it was the way things were in the life of a royal. If Francis were to find out, there would be _nothing_ that could save Sebastian. Even her life would be in jeopardy.

She felt her body pulse in time with his panting breaths as he gently rested his weight against her. They were sweaty, and he was excruciatingly tired, his days in the dungeon having weakened his physical state. But they were happy. They lay quietly for a moment, allowing themselves to regain their composure. Sebastian refused to move off Mary for awhile, and when he finally did, she sighed in protest.

"Mary, you appear to be elsewhere. Is everything alright?" Sebastian murmured, having transferred himself to where he lay facing Mary. He reached out a hand to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. She caught his hand, holding it possessively against her cheek.

"I was daydreaming a bit. Thinking of us in a different place, being different people. A place where we would not have to hide." Her smile was downcast, but she kissed the palm of his hand adoringly.

"We could run away, start a new life together in Germany, or Spain. We could explore the entirety of Christendom if you wanted." There was a note of seriousness in his voice, but the lilt of humor traveled along with each word.

"Oh, if only that were possible. I realized too late that I made the wrong choice in marrying Francis." Mary held his gaze closely, before ducking her eyes. "But I cannot marry you either."

"I know."

"If it were not for Scotland, I would rule as only a Queen." Mary continued to hold his hand fiercely against her cheek. "But Scotland is my homeland and I am obliged to protect her."

"I know."

"Then what are we to do?" Desperation echoed through Mary's words, and it moved Sebastian to his core. Before him was a Queen. A Queen who was merely a teenage girl. A girl who held people's lives and well-beings in the palm of her hand. How he ached to carry the burden for her, lighten the unbearable weight from her shoulders.

"We do nothing." He replied sadly. "You remain as Scotland's Queen, with the might of France at your back."

"And what will you do?"

"I will do what I do best, and love you from the shadows." His reply was earnest, but Mary did not want to hear it.

"I cannot be satisfied with you suffering in the shadows." They had unconsciously moved their bodies closer together, their lengths pressed innocently against each other.

"Then I will love you as I do now, under the cover of darkness. You have laid claim to my heart, Mary, and I will be by you always, however you want me."

"As you have claimed mine." She answered, loosening her grip of his hand to stroke his cheek affectionately. She kissed his lips sweetly, before turning in his arms so his body cradled hers. Together, they drifted off to sleep, allowing their minds to be filled with impossible dreams.

* * *

"Your Grace! Your Grace!"

Sebastian startled awake at the incessant knocking and yelling at the door. Mary stirred beside him, the knocking at her door waking her up.

"Damn!" Sebastian whispered jumping out of bed and grabbing his shirt, hurriedly shoving his legs into his pants.

Mary jerked awake, frantically searching for her robe, before freezing at the sound of door used by her ladies.

"Go! Please hurry!" She mouthed at Sebastian as he fumbled with the secret door. He kissed her quickly, hurriedly attempting at making an exit.

"I will see you tonight?" He whispered. Mary smiled and nodded, before gently pushing him through the door, closing it behind her.

She sat back on her bed, wrapping her already robed self in the sheet before responding to the knocking. "Yes, come in."

As a messenger from Francis entered, she saw Kenna stride through the other door, morning necessities in hand.

"I am sorry to wake you, Your Grace, but your presence is requested in the throne room as soon as possible. There is news from England."

"Thank you, I will be there shortly."

As they left, Mary moved to her dressing table, Kenna immediately began combing Mary's hair. "Did you sleep well?" Kenna asked, oblivious to what had happened the previous evening.

"I did, Kenna, thank you for asking. Do you know anything about the news from England?"

"No, the kitchens and servants quarters were not unusually busy this morning. It cannot be any too important." Mary laughed as Kenna helped her into her morning dress. Most news normally never was too important, but King Henry, and subsequently Francis, always made things seem more vital than they really were.

"There, I think you are ready." Kenna stated, finishing the laces of Mary's dress.

Mary admired Kenna's work, and smiled. "Yes, I think I am."

And as Mary strode down the hall, turning towards the throne room, she thought back on the warmth of Sebastian's arm, the huskiness of his voice, and pure love and adoration shining in his eyes. Together, her world felt complete. She did not worry about the fact she lied to Francis, or that Sebastian had just been released from the dungeons. No, today was a new day.

_Yes, I think I am ready for anything, _she thought.


End file.
